


A, B, C, D... Agency

by rpshoodini



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Alphabet Meme, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Gen, I try to stick to canon as much as possible, Posted in non alphabetical order, Spy Shenanigans, aka a whole bunch of headcanons, spare me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-10 03:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7828930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rpshoodini/pseuds/rpshoodini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ups and downs of D-Agency, now sorted alphabetically. Please beware the plot bunnies: They kill without hesitation and die in honor.</p><p>(N)ames: Emma started going to school a week ago for the first time since her arrival with Amari in Hawaii. Apparently her new teacher likes asking weird questions, and one of them unintentionally sends Amari's mind blown.</p><p>(F)reud: A night where Tazaki and Kaminaga are the only living, breathing creatures at their so-called, low-on-budget dorms might or might not reveal more things from their subconscious minds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (A)cquintances

"You are by no means _comrades_ or _friends_ , but instead simply _acquintances_ ," Yuuki had emphasized the first time he declared the eight young men in suits standing before him to have passed final test; and thus officially became those he would soon send on different missions. Two cold grey orbs scanned through his eight protégés, the latter stood side-by-side in their superior's office, face unreadable, each replied to Yuuki's gaze with identical undettered look.

Only acquintances. _Acquintances_ who eat on the same table every day, visit various bars together every weekend, have a shared hobby of betting who can create the best argument to reveal the Emperor's flaws, and even sleep next to each other in one single room every night. Not comrades at all. Who are we trying to fool here?

"Yes, Hatano?"

Hatano slowly lowered his previously raised hand, expression remained riddiculously serious. "I won't bother to refute about us being acquintances... But really, Yuuki-san, can't we at least have _separate_ rooms?" and with a much lower, but still audible voice, "Odagiri snores like a mating whale, just so you know."

Odagiri's mouth gaped open as he shot the dirtiest look he could manage at Hatano. The other spies used their dying will to restrain themselves from laughing; they were sure that being a spy, surviving is already as hard as it is. No one needs a death sentence for once, especially from their very employer on the first day of their employment. 

Yuuki coughed. " _No._ " 


	2. (C)old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to popular belief, summer cold spreads rather easily throughout the Greater East Asia Cultural Society. And so does chaos.

Of course it had to start with Tazaki. Nearly everything starts with Tazaki, after all. The whole trainees of D Agency quickly realized that _something was most certainly wrong_ when on one morning, there wasn't a single pigeon flying across the pantry disturbing their breakfast; thus Fukumoto, being himself, was the first to actually _ask_ regarding this oddity.

"Does anyone know where Tazaki is?"

"Upstairs," answered Kaminaga, his mouth full, breaking the silence without raising his chin from his omurice, "got a cold."

"A cold?" Fukukoto paused midway stirring miso, "I thought all of us have managed to survive _hypothermia_ at some point." No one could completely forgot about that certain test which involved swimming in the ocean under extreme weather.

"A cold spreads through _virus_ , Fukumoto-san, you can't compare it to hypothermia," a raspy voice coming from the door responded to Fukumoto's comment. The owner of the voice itself, was revealed to be Tazaki in a disheveled condition, with eyes droopy and skin a shade paler.

The tall spy grimaced. "You'd better stay in bed. That cold sounds quite terrible."

"I don't want to miss breakfast, though..."

"That's your own fault getting yourself a stupid cold, Tazaki-san," Jitsui cheerfully reminded him with a smile slightly too wide, "I've always thought that keeping pigeons in daily living space must be bad for personal hygiene."

" _This cold has nothing to do with my pigeons!_ "

Hatano piped in mischievously, "I saw their feathers on your bed sheets, Tazaki."

"You guys--!"

"All of you, finish your meals," Fukumoto ordered, effectively silencing his fellow trainees and stopped their teasing. "And Tazaki, please stop sneezing. Whatever you have now is contagious."

Tazaki kept on sneezing, nevertheless.

***

On the next morning, Tazaki had fully recovered from his cold, but Jitsui and Hatano entered the dining hall with a puffy nose and flushed cheeks.

"Must be because you two weigh the _lightest,_ " Amari wisely suggested with a chuckle as he shoved a glass of water to Hatano, who was hacking awful sounding coughs. "Your immunity is weaker, that's why the virus infected you more easily."

From the crook of his elbow, Hatano shot him a glare of daggers, who would definitely scare the shit out of people if not for his currently bleary eyes. " _Height_ isn't in any way related to immunity--and I'm _not_ short."

"I never say you are."

"You said I'm a lightweight and I'm _weaker_."

"Well, true... but that's different to--"

"Amari-san," interrupted the sick-Jitsui, which was more or less the same like the usual Jitsui, except seventy percent more irritatable and merciless, "shut up."

Amari cringed. He secretly did hope for his sweet side to surface in Jitsui once he is ill.

Kaminaga cackled sarcastically at their antics as he emptied his own glass of champagne (he faithfully believed that it is never too early for champagne). "Turns out the high and mighty spies of D Agency got owned by some half-assed summer cold," he sneered and glanced to his side, "anyway Miyoshi, why aren't you getting a cold too? I mean, according to Amari's theory..."

"What are you implying, Kaminaga," an offended Miyoshi retorted back, slightly challenging, "I care for myself well, of course it won't infect me so easily."

" _Overly_ well, it seems."

Miyoshi's voice morphed into a low hiss. "Are you picking a fight?"

"Oi oi, come on now, stop bickering like children," hushed Amari to both men who were grudgingly glaring at each other. Said spy held out his hand forward, gesturing them to stop. "We should be grateful for not contracting this unfortunate cold, you know."

***

"Are you sure you don't want to touch your breakfast?"

Fukumoto patroningly swayed three bowls of miso right in front of Amari, Kaminaga, and Miyoshi--who were in the moment half-asleep slumping on the table, while Hatano and Jitsui sat nearby with a perfect health after their one-day-long cold. The three spies groaned in unison at the smell of food.

"Please put it away," Kaminaga begged as he scrunched his nose, "I think I'm gonna puke."

"It's quite disappointing of us, isn't it, losing the battle to a simple _cold_?" Tazaki pointed out off-handedly while he resumed toying with a card on his hand, expression serious. "I mean, we're supposedly _lethal_ , yet the number of people falling victim to the virus increases every day."

Jitsui chuckled in response. "Right. Even I begin to think it has no relation with sanitation at all--Miyoshi-san still caught it; he takes three showers a day."

Miyoshi threw him a tired glare and ran a hand through his unusually messy hair.

Amari, meanwhile, weakly smiled as he tried to appreciate Fukumoto's attempts to make them feel better. "We're sorry for the trouble, Fukumoto. This virus is getting more troublesome with each passing day."

Fukumoto gave him a short appropiate nod in return, but on other hand Hatano snorted. "It's not the virus that is getting stronger--it's because you guys are old, thus your bodies react to the virus poorly."

A beat.

"For the record, Hatano, I'm--" Miyoshi proceeded to wipe his snot in a dignified manner and failed, "--not old."

"Denial is one of its early signs."

Tazaki tilted his head in confusion. "Miyoshi-san does _look_ young, though?"

"Kaminaga-san caught the cold. He is physically an old hag despite mentally being a toddler," Jitsui explained, unstartled, "see, it still works more or less the same."

The petite trainee surpressed a laugh at his statement. "You will say that no longer once you see Kaminaga's sexual history, Jitsui--I assure you it's very much _M-rated_."

"Ah!"

"Hey, why don't guys stop and start thinking of a way to restore our health?" interrupted Amari all of a sudden, trying to catch the attention of the spies. "They say a cold can only be cured by passing it to others..."

Their gazes quickly fell on their two unsuspecting straight-faced fellow spies.

***

When Odagiri turned up at the door of the dining hall the following morning, he was stunned to see not a trace of breakfast being served on the table.

"What--" he began to say, but paused after he came to a realization that a certain person was missing from the room, and recieved a meaningful glance from one of the six trainees currently present, "--oh."

***

Everyone fully expected--hoped, even--for Odagiri to catch the cold next thus experience their sufferings. However, Odagiri seemed to be completely fit the day after, and the day after that day, and even the following week; until at last they concluded that perhaps the virus had finally gone for good and Odagiri was _just lucky_ to not catch it.

Odagiri kept silent as his fellow trainees stared at him with slight disappointment and jealousy. He shrugged, _must be some sort of monsters-limited cold._


	3. (G)igolo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaminaga is in fact doing very good during his class, however Miyoshi is not completely okay with this. Or is he?

It wasn't like anyone could miss the fact that Kaminaga's favorite lesson during their whole training period was seduction class. In each of those classes, actual active gigolos taught the spies about things ranging from luring women into spilling their secrets, to stealing microfilm in the middle of a French kiss. Apparently not only the gigolos were perverted, they were idiotic as well--Because in one of their sessions, they somehow thought it is a good idea to make the spies practice seduction on _each other_.

It wasn't that hard--Especially for Kaminaga, given his current practicing partner was Miyoshi, thus imagining him as a woman wasn't exactly a problem. That was, until Kaminaga decided to up his game a little.

"What the Hell," Miyoshi stuttered out, body frozen as he suddenly felt Kaminaga's hand tracing his waist from behind, "are you doing?"

"Touching your body."

Until a few seconds ago, they were simply half-heartedly exchanging various seductive lines. _That_ sort of escalated quickly. "Have you lost your mind?"

"What, I'm just doing as they suggested," Kaminaga retorted sounding annoyed, but soon his mouth curled into a smirk as his hands roamed further. "Could it be your pride as a man is hurt? Having such a _figure_ too..."

Miyoshi snapped. In a blink he was facing Kaminaga, holding his wrists and purposefully twisting them in process. "Excuse me," whispered he in his most sensual voice, "care to repeat what you have just said more clearly?"

Kaminaga blinked in surprise, but wasted no time to regain his composure and violently man-handled Miyoshi closer to his chest. He licked his lips. "Let's _expose them all_ here and now..."

Meanwhile, from the opposite corner of the classroom, Jitsui chuckled, nervously persuading Hatano to stop staring at the two of them. "Ah, Hatano-san, surely it's better for us to continue our own practice?"

His partner, Hatano, instead chose to keep on watching Kaminaga and Miyoshi dramatically seducing--no, strangling each other from afar. "Bullshit! You don't get to see something like this everyday. A perfect blackmail material," he insisted, then continued staring at those two with a satisfied chesire grin.

Jitsui sighed and turned to his last hope of sanity. "Idiots, right Tazaki-san? Er, Tazaki-san? Were you sulking just now...?"


	4. (I)nformation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuki is still learning too, and while experience is said to be the best teacher, that doesn't mean he is able to change the future.

Nothing in the world was ever free, Yuuki had always been well aware of that fact. Which was why the spymaster put very high regards in money. Wars are expensive--the soldiers' payments cost a lot, training facilities cost a lot, firearms cost a lot, battleships and aircrafts cost even more. But if he had to pick one, he had to say the most expensive influental part during a war is _information_.

Simply because he couldn't easily buy or barter money for information, but Japan wouldn't last long in the battlefield without them either. _Information_ was more or less like that annoying wife you had to please. It costs you money for the whole spy training and accomodations. But it is also lustful, it wants it all; kind of resembles Yuuki himself. Sometimes, it wants more than merely _money_.

Yuuki had experienced the extent of its wrath. Information wants his left hand and his ability to walk. He willingly gave them away, exchanged them with top secret codes thus cemented his title as a spymaster. Yuuki personally thought his sacrifice was worth it, a very adventageous exchange on his part. Information couldn't take more from him that it already had. After his return to Japan, he split himself into eight, mercilessly scattered the eight pieces all across the globe to continue his legacy.

Only many years later he finally realized that Information was greedier than he originally thought. It asked for _human lives_. It snatched what it wants without Yuuki's permission, without Yuuki's consideration, all so suddenly, that he had no choice but to let go. When Yuuki at last laid his hand on greedy, greedy Information; he briefly wondered what Information is planning to take from him next-- _is it really worth it?_


	5. (M)eals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jitsui wonders why Fukumoto so willingly cooks for the rest of the spies.

Yuuki may have provided them with fake names and fake backstories and fake everything to cover up their past life and protect those who used to have connections with them. Nevertheless, occupying the same building with the spies for a year made Fukumoto came to a realizement that not everything can be hidden with lies. Some small things--such as Miyoshi's hatred towards cats, or Kaminaga's apparent fondness to women in general, _or_ Jitsui's habit of reading a book before bed--weren't part of the detailed, fictional backstories Yuuki had given them. Maybe both the spymaster and his trainees deemed it not that beneficial for their missions to alter such little quirks.

Another thing which the spies didn't bother covering up was their pick in food. The spies claimed that they _could_ in fact pretend to or not to enjoy a kind of food to complete their cover; but within the private area of D Agency, it seemed like they didn't see a reason to voluntarily torment themselves when off duty.

When he heard footsteps entering the pantry, Jitsui paused reading his book to see who the newcomer was.

"Fukumoto-san," he greeted, eyes glancing at his tall fellow as his fingers automatically folded the edge of the page he last read, marking it for later. "You're preparing for dinner already? I suppose you're ahead of your usual cooking schedule."

The stoic man nonchalantly put his apron on as he responded. "Hn. I'm considering to make something more... complex for tonight, I'm afraid the preparation is going to take longer than usual."

Fukumoto was one of the other reasons why the spies without shame admitted the food they found desirable out loud at every possible occassion. Not taking advantage of Fukumoto's exceptional ability and keenness in cooking would be a major waste. The dark-skinned trainee always puts his devotion in every meal he was trusted with.

"What's with the sudden mood, Fukumoto-san? Did I miss something?" Jitsui asked, because no matter how much passion his fellow spy had in cooking, it wasn't an everyday occurence to see him putting extra effort.

"No, there is nothing special. There was a sale at the market earlier this morning, nearly everything was half the original price," Fukumoto explained, hands automatically filled a pot with water and put it on the stove by reflex while saying so. "You don't need a reason to have a decent meal, for once in a while."

"Ah, so that's how it is," the young man cheerfully piped in as he politely apporached Fukumoto to see what he was doing. As he leaned on the table, a tiny black figure all of a sudden jumped onto it, surprising him a little. "Whoa, where did this little guy sneak in from?"

Fukumoto turned just in time to see said figure--a cat--once again leaped from the tabletop only to rub its head on his legs, prying his attention and begging for affection. Fukumoto sighed. This is becoming a habit. 

"Your cat, Fukumoto-san?" Amusement evident on his face, Jitsui stared at the feline curiously as it stubbornly tried to distract the tall spy from cooking. "I've never expected you to be a cat-person."

"No. It's a stray cat, perhaps followed me here from the market," it wasn't long until Fukumoto finally gave in to all the rubbing and purring--he crouched with a plate of leftover fish chunks in one hand, to which the cat responded with a satisfied meow. "Not the first time it comes here for food, anyway."

Jitsui sneered. "I believe Miyoshi-san won't be very happy about this."

"..."

Fukumoto was quiet (Jitsui had seen this coming) as he watched the cat enjoying his meal in silence, hence the other trainee decided not to wait for a response before he asked, "but is it really okay to feed strays like this? They will keep on coming back once you go soft on them, you know."

 _I know,_ Fukumoto wanted to say, but instead he simply glared at the cat for longer. Strays, are homeless creatures, with no one they had sworn loyalty to in the past, no permanent identity in the present, as well as nothing to carve on their tombstones in the future; just like them spies, and Fukumoto could relate. Maybe he felt fulfilled by giving them someplace they can return to over and over again until one day they stop visiting and stop existing and no one will ever be aware of their disappearance except _him._.

Or maybe he just really liked cats, that's all.

"Hn," he slowly stood up and glanced at Jitsui. _Feeding them also didn't feel that much different to feeding those cats._ "So, dinner. What's your favourite, Jitsui?"

The younger man was dumbfounded for a second, but soon his eyes were glinting with hype and mischief. His mind quickly listed the complete buffet of appetizers, main courses, and desserts for a standard formal dinner in an international five star hotel; Fukumoto was _totally_ going to regret this offer.


	6. (P)okerface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 1941, Kaminaga recieves a new mission from his superior. Little does he know that the only constant thing in a spy's life is change; and consequenty, some things do change. In drastic measures.

The first time Miyoshi beat him in poker, it was a total victory for the narcissist, and a total blow to Kaminaga's pride. It was one of their first nights as trainees, days before the final test, and someone he now couldn't remember started urging the others to play a round or two. And naturally Kaminaga joined in, because he knew full well that he was 'exceptional' in all card games.

Long story short, all his hopes and self-esteem crumbled in front of Miyoshi's damned four cards, his fox-like smirk lurking behind them. At that time, Kaminaga's pokerface served as his escapade from embarrassment.

So he thought his expression must've slipped sometime during the game, and that was how Miyoshi found out about his hand. The second time Kaminaga played against him, it was when their Joker Game style was created. Four trainees playing, four others giving signs, and Kaminaga carefully kept his face void of any emotions. He still lost.

However, the second time they played Joker Game--with the price of a box of branded cigarettes in return of signs from Fukumoto--Kaminaga came out first place. Miyoshi chuckled lightly as he watched his opponents snatched away his piles of coins, calmly taking a long drag as his eyes locked on Kaminaga's--like a bird waiting for the right time to capture his prey. Since then, he swore to make sure his pokerface stays in place no matter how good his hand is, whenever Miyoshi is joining on the table.

"This is going to be your new identity," explained Yuuki, his voice tore through the silent office. One of his hands rested on top of the other, both supporting his chin.

Kaminaga, standing right in front of his superior, analyzed the thick report Yuuki had given him in a composed manner. His slender fingers flipped through the pages with practiced ease, eyes rapidly swallowing information. "Los Angeles? When should I start?"

"Exactly. No need to rush, you'll be transported in the next two weeks. Before the time comes, you may prepare for whatever you deem important."

Kaminaga breathed out as he closed the report, "understood."

The older man glared at his subordinate as if silently judging him. "I have high expectations for this mission's success," he added after a while, eyes not off even the slightest inch, "moreover since we've lost our resources in Germany; we're putting quite a gamble on this one now."

After the signing of _Tripacta_ with Germany and Italy, things surely had gone a lot harder for Japanese spies. Being extra careful to avoid ruining diplomatic agreements is inevitable. This is where the true purpose of D Agency relied on. Yuuki sent his best disciples to sneak into an _ally's_ territory--but Kaminaga caught a hint of doubt when Yuuki previously talked about one of his informants who was put on duty in said European country. "I thought Miyoshi hadn't yet returned from his mission, Yuuki-san."

The spymaster pursued his lips. "For a spy, death is the end of everything."

Kaminaga could feel his heart rate rising up, and he partly refused to believe what stood before him. Before he could do anything to stop it, his lips moved on their own, questioning in nothing but a reluctant whisper, " _when?_ "

"Last December."

 _That is nearly a year ago._ He hadn't heard a word about this. "How? Why...?"

"You undertsand what kind of risks we are taking here, as well as what kind of goal we are all working to achieve. 'Death', for the employees of D Agency, is still considered a failure, even if some casualties are out of our control; but I will have you know that the disappearance of Miyoshi wasn't completely in vain," Yuuki impatiently cut him off, shutting the younger man up. "You are now dismissed."

For a split second Kaminaga wanted to _stay_ and _argue_ , but otherwise his expression slowly reverted back to an emotionless mask--his uncrackable, prided pokerface--as he nodded once; and with that, he made his exit. His tounge was dry and it strangely tasted of deja vu.


	7. (F)reud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (F)reud: A night where Tazaki and Kaminaga are the only living, breathing creatures at their so-called, low-on-budget dorms might or might not reveal more things from their subconscious minds.

"Tazaki, you still awake?"

A moment of uncomfortable silence. The rustling of autumn leaves behind the window of Greater East Asia Cultural Society stained the stillness of Tokyo past-midnight, as not a sound but deep, relaxed snores answered to his previous question.

"I know you _are_ , Tazaki. Stop pretending you aren't."

Knowing his cover had been blown, Tazaki's dramatically long sigh escaped his lips, harmonizing with the rythm of the night. "What do you want, Kaminaga-san?" he asked in return, over the lines of empty, too-neat beds which filled in the distance between them. Tazaki didn't even bother to move from his current position laying on his mattress, and despite he seemed to be just woken up, his voice didn't slur in the slightest.

His companion emitted something that sounded like a surpressed chuckle. "How unwelcoming," the man cynically commented, also in a similar position to Tazaki's, in a voice loud enough to be heard from the opposite side of their shared room, but quiet enough not to ruin the serene atmosphere.

Tazaki snorted. "No one is burdened to show _hospitality_ after being disturbed from a nice, deep slumber."

"But you weren't asleep."

"--because you woke me up."

"You faked those snores, don't think you can fool me."

"Kaminaga-san, we were all fucking trained to be _light-sleepers_. What else can you expect?" The raven haired man retorted, and then silence once more followed as the two spies laid motionlessly on their respective beds.

"I really yearn for a mission during times like these," the older spy at last stated, yawning, "what do you think will help myself fall back asleep?"

"Count sheeps," suggested Tazaki almost automatically, "or pigeons."

"Unlike you, I'm not a pigeon-maniac," Kaminaga muttered, then added in a hopeful tone, "must be great to have a _partner in bed_ right now."

Tazaki squinted his eyes and Kaminaga could hear his blanket being instinctively pulled tighter. "Are you implying something?"

"...what?"

"Nevermind."

"Well," Kaminaga cleared his throat as the chilly wind blew sakura trees outside and washed off the various voices of men and women from a red light district nearby with them, "too late to get the best woman at the usual place anyway. How do you feel about a round of Blackjack? Or 8-ball pool?"

An annoyed grunt escaped Tazaki. "How do you feel about consuming sleeping pills?"

From then on, Kaminaga went completely quiet for a beat too long that Tazaki felt the urgency to check on his condition through the corner of his eye. Said man simply laid where he was with a blank expression. "I... reckon I'm going to avoid contact with any kind of chemical substance entering my body for a while," he reasoned.

 _Oh well,_ Tazaki silently raised an eyebrow, _then something did happened during his last mission in London._ "If you say so."

Even louder silence followed.

When he finally couldn't stand the tranquility any longer, Kaminaga released a yawn. "Hey, I still can't sleep," he complained into the darkness, hoping to hear a response from the other spy. After a few awkward seconds he at last admitted that Tazaki would never willingly play along with his antics, hence the older spy shifted to push his upper half up. His silhouette blocked the moonlight, resulting in some kind of blurry shadow on the walls. "I'm going for a smoke. Want to join me?"

Tazaki, actually half-unconscious this time, slurred out raspily from under his layers of blanket, "please go and bother Hatano-san or Miyoshi-san instead, Kaminaga-san. Unlike your little group of insomniacs, some people still need an appropiate rest at night..."

"...and _some people_ are also fucking God-knows-where across the globe."

Tazaki's eyes shot open. _Right, how could he forget?_

In fact, the only occupants of their old, low-budget building they called a training facility right now were none but Kaminaga and himself. Hatano was somewhere in France, Amari was still hiding in abroad, Jitsui was under the cover of a waiter in a different part of Japan for months now, while the rest were... Tazaki couldn't keep tabs on them. That must've been why Kaminaga restlessly kept on getting on his nerves the entire night. Perhaps both him and the older spy--or at least their _subconscious_ \--had gotten too used to the static existence of their fellow spies in D Agency, up to the point they fail to remember and accept that of course things ran fluid and unpredictable--people come and go all of the time. They were, after all, spies who lived during a wartime.

He sighed. "Wouldn't Hatano-san return next week? Yuuki-san is flying to France, isn't he?"

"Yes," Kaminaga responded as if the other was stating the obvious. He impatiently tapped his fingers on the bedframe. "So are you going to join me or not?"

"I will, I will," the black-haired man assured him, stretching his body. "Just a few more minutes."

"Fine."

"..."

"Tazaki?"

"..."

"Oi, Tazaki?"

"...zzz."

"You're unbelieveable."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *In case you're not familiar with the title of this chapter: by the word /freud/ here I'm referring to the 'freudian slip' or 'freudian theory' or 'paraplaxis', which is a psychology term for a verbal or memory mistake that is believed to be linked to the unconscious mind. These slips supposedly reveal the real secret thoughts and feelings that people hold.
> 
> What I'm putting in this drabble might not be (it is, in fact NOT) accurate examples of a paraplaxis, but yeaaaaaah I'm just trynna emphasize how these two spies are sleepy and lonely and prone to tounge-slips.
> 
> So... (just in case) it isn't a typo. Okay.
> 
> **According to a timeline someone posted on Tumblr, this is chronologically correct. There is a time when these two are left on their own at the main building (+ fukumoto, but let's ignore that fact for a moment, can't we;) )


	8. (N)ames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (N)ames: Emma started going to school a week ago for the first time since her arrival with Amari in Hawaii. Apparently her new teacher likes asking weird questions, and one of them unintentionally sends Amari's mind blown.

"Papa, what does my name mean?"

The question came up so unexpectedly that Amari had to pause reading his just-arrived morning newspaper, and returned the stare of a little girl looking at him with expectant eyes. He decided to break the tension a little, therefore he chuckled and folded the news while changing his sitting position to fully facing Emma. "What's with the sudden curiosity?"

"My teacher asked us about the meaning our names at school," her lips curled into a small frown, "I couldn't answer her." Emma started going to school a week ago for the first time ever since their arrival in America, and apparently her new teacher made it a hobby to ask weird questions.

Amari's mouth formed a thin smile alongside a fresh, short chuckle. He slowly lowered his head to the height equal to Emma's, kept on maintaining their eye-contact. "What's in a name? A flower would still be fragnant no matter the name," he tilted his head winking, "my dearest Emma is still uncomparably beautiful no matter her name."

Smooth-talking and various sweet-nothings were always part of Amari's forté, however even the man himself couldn't deny that his previous statement contained a bit of truth. What importance does a name hold in it? You can't change reality simply by altering how you call something. A person is a person; a monster is still a monster, names aside.

The young red-head puffed her cheeks stubbornly. "I still want to find out."

"Well then, I guess I have no choice," Amari hummed as if trying to recall, while in actuality he was just enjoying watching Emma's expression lit up as he began speaking. "'Emma' might be derived from Germanic word _ermen_ ; and that means... "whole" or "universal", as far as I remember."

"Wow!"

A small grin tugged on Amari's lips. "It was just a coincidence, I learn a bit of German a long time ago." And isn't that a coincidence that he, along with the rest of his fellow D Agency spies, had learned multiple languages ranging from English to German to French to Tagalog. Never had Amari imagined that this skill would at one point be used for answering the questions of a five-year-old kid.

Suddenly the girl's eyes widened, as if she had just remembered something. She turned quickly to face Amari once again, "what about your name, Papa? What does it mean?"

The undercover spy began to open his mouth, but stopped himself midway. _Who is he?_ No, his name wasn't Amari at the moment. Instead of the-Japanese-spy-Amari, he was currently 'Utsumi', an upper-class gentleman living with a minor named Emma Grant. However, even if 'Amari' sounded _more fitting_ for him than Utsumi or any other fake names he used on previous missions, 'Amari' itself wasn't his real name; his real name would be...

Amari chuckled lightly. "I forgot myself; but I'm sure it means something really, really nice."

"It's alright, Papa. Both our names seem to have great meanings," she responded, and steadily Emma's little brows began furrowing as she continued, "but does that make us a nice person too?"

"Does a name determine the kind of person you are?"

The young girl blinked, surprised to have her question answered rhetorically with another question. "Isn't a name a sort of... _wish_?"

This time, Amari was the one to blink, when he realized that he might have driven their conversation into a topic too complicated for a child. As a spy, the ground rule was to fulfill the duty of a _spy_ regardless of identity he is wearing at the moment. Be his name the name of a dignified conglomerate or a free-spirited artist, he was expected assure a mission's success.

Amari softly ruffled Emma's hair--the little girl tilted her head in surprise. "If that's how it is, then yes, I guess a name really _is_ a wish given by our parents." Therefore such a disgrace for their family he and the spies were; dumping their actual names inherited from their parents and replaced it with the fake ones randomly chosen.

Nevertheless, spies don't need something as trivial as a name to produce excellence, they don't need heroic names to be written in history books as long as it is stated in their pages that their country was victorious.

Emma happily clasped her hand, filled with slight determination. "I want to live up to my name. For mama."

"--please don't forget that you ought to be a gentle person, even if you're as good as nameless, sweetheart. Understand?" Emma nodded, and the spy grinned wider, "but I'm sure Emma-chan, beautiful as her name is, totally deserves the greatness of how she is called."

"Thanks, Papa!"

Amari's hand once more reached to ruffle Emma's hair--the latter clearly enjoying it--while he looked up to the bright skies of Hawaii and wondered. _But if I pray for you liars using your fake names; will it work just the same?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *That one sentence that goes "a flower is still fragnant..." was inspired by a dialogue in Coraline (Neil Gaiman). I remember reading the comic as a child and it was easily one of my first psychological-thriller:"v
> 
> **I hope I wrote the origin of name 'Emma' right. I did some kind of research using the internet and that's what I found.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeaaah so I'm back with more headcanons. Sorry. I recently came to a realization that I can't suffer alone, that's why I decided to share my sufferings with you guys (may the plot bunnies disturb your sleep XD)
> 
> My mind now consists of 50% Joker Game and 50% chemistry, and this might be the weirdest phase I can get in years??? The point is I might not publish new chapters quickly but I swear I'm gonna finish this one. Sometime.
> 
> OKAYY THATS ALL please review and sorry for any typos/grammar mistakes~ wwww #out


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